


Splashed

by Davechicken



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 04:07:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9218249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: It's training, Chirrut swears.





	

“C’mon, Baze.” Chirrut does what he hopes are his appealing eyes. He’s felt the expression on faces, and that’s what he tries to mimic. “Even the most devout Guardian is allowed _one_ day off.”  


“I thought you said this was a training expedition.”  


Oh, yeah. Better stick with the cover-story. “It can be both. From… a certain point of view.”

“Chirrut, either it is, or it isn’t.”  


“Life is more complicated than that.” He smiles. He knows how to do that, at least. And his smiles almost _always_ convince Baze.

“…fine. But… there will be some training, or I will not go with you again.”  


Score.

***

The ride out to the small oasis is a long one, and Chirrut sits cheerily in the co-pilot seat of the small craft. He feels the rumble of the machine over the debris below, the whip of light winds to his face. 

Where they are going is sacred to the Force, and only those who protect, or live by it may enter. Chirrut has been a few times, but none recently, and never with Baze.

He’s… excited. A giddy jump in his heart, a wringing in his hands around the staff. It _can_ still be spiritual, and meaningful. All sorts of things can be spiritual, and meaningful. (Baze often invokes the Force with him, after all.) But it can also be pretty damn nice. They’re not ascetic by any means, but there’s such a thing as needing a little luxury from time to time.

And this is certainly that.

The minute Baze pulls the ship to a halt, the ozone-fresh smell and cold sting of wet air caresses his face like a blind lover would, and Chirrut seeks the heart of it with a face that feels the slightest currents. His hands tighten on the staff, and he doesn’t want to move, because it will break the moment. It will no longer be ‘before’, and thus closer to ‘after’. 

“Well?”  


Baze’s voice has an odd tone to it, and Chirrut puts a hand on his knee. “I’m ready.”

A pause - both of them needing it - and they slip out of the car.

***

Chirrut undresses with ease, using his staff to hold his clothing all in one place when it’s removed. He has no shame in baring himself like this, and it makes the most sense. If another Guardian _were_ to come, he’d be as happy being nude as not. 

After all, those _with_ working eyes can always turn them away.

He weaves his fingers together and lifts them above his head, stretching his spine out. Keeps them there, then lifts one foot behind him - straight-legged - as he uses it to balance a stretch forwards. The sun is warm and tender on his sand-dust skin, and it licks around the places it normally does not get to touch.

Down to both feet, and then the other stretches behind. He works through the stages of one of his warmups, enjoying the lack of clothing to restrict him. His manhood sways unbound, but he’s not intending to ‘spar’, not here.

Somehow, he knows Baze’s eyes are on him. He doesn’t need to touch to imagine the other man undressed: he knows the broad shoulders, the full arms, the strong chest. He knows the scars and lines over his skin, and he knows the expression he will be making. 

Baze Malbus stretches, too. 

Once they are done, they stand at the edge of the small pool, and Baze chants the little litany, then dives headfirst in. Chirrut listens to make sure he’s not swum underneath his landing goal, and then follows.

The water is cooler than the air, and it’s a shock to the system as he plunges deep into the chill. All his warm spots go cold, and when he pulls his head from the surface-tension of the water, he has to turn his face to the sun to steal a little warmth.

Blinking droplets from his lashes, he smiles again.

“Good plan?”  


“Smugness does not suit you,” Baze complains.  


“It’s not smugness, it’s accomplishment and pride,” Chirrut replies. And splashes at him, before turning to swim the length of the small pool and back, getting the best of it while the sun is up.

***

Once they’re both tired out from the swim, they tread water, holding one another’s forearms so they don’t slip away from the other. Chirrut can feel the muscles, the power in his lover’s arms. He leans in, pushing their noses together, and smiles against his lips. 

“How long before we have to go back?”  


“We have an hour.”  


“How long of sunlight, before we start to get too cold?”  


“…an hour?” Baze suggests.  


Chirrut kisses him. He can kiss a lot in an hour.


End file.
